


Legerdemain

by siniscule



Category: Love Live! School Idol Project
Genre: Angst, F/F, Magic, NicoMaki, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5777065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siniscule/pseuds/siniscule
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maki Nishikino is a young woman looking for an excuse to run away, but she didn't expect to find it at the end of an alleyway with a top hat and rabbit in hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legerdemain

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for my wonderfully talented writer friend, Blaer!

Entranced is not a word that does justice to the way you feel when you first see her.

She is speechless as she practices in the cobblestone alley behind the theatre, her gloved hand smoothly pulling a cotton white rabbit out of a top hat set upon a cement surface. Glued to the ground in wonder, you watch from a distance until she notices you, strands of her raven hair falling in front of her face. Her mouth widens into a grin, her free hand gesturing for you to come closer while the other gingerly holds the rabbit.

You do not know why you feel so drawn to her, but you do not hesitate to approach her.

"Hello," you say softly, your gaze finding its way to hers. Her eyes, glistening rubies, pierce through you until the strike hits your ribcage, a thunderous pounding beating against your chest. You wonder, "Are you a magician?"

She nods her head, bringing a hand up to her mouth and demonstrating a zipping gesture, and it does not take long for you to understand.

"You can't speak?" you ask, feeling the need to clarify.

She nods and, although you want to express your sympathies, she barely gives you enough time to reply before gently forcing the rabbit into your arms. You blush, unfamiliar with handling domestic animals, but the girl pats your arm and proceeds to pet the fluffy creature. Following her example, you can't help but giggle as the rabbit nuzzles its face further into your arm.

"I'm Maki Nishikino," you introduce, and the girl gives you another small smile before patting the stone wall beside her. There is a large poster of her, and she is bowing with a cheeky grin within the image. You see a name written out in bold lettering.

"Nico Yazawa The Magnificent?" you inquire, watching as she nods frantically and claps her hands together. It makes you smile, and you kiss the rabbit's head in an attempt to conceal your enthusiastic expression.

Nico pulls out two hair ties from her suit pocket, proceeding to tie her hair up into pigtails and becoming the version of herself as portrayed in the advertisement. It makes her look younger almost instantly, but you kind of like the way the hairstyle looks on her. She grabs a hand of yours, shaking it firmly with a happy grin before packing and running off down the alley.

You blush, feeling unsure of the sudden departure and the fact that the bunny is still nestling in your arms. Your fingers run through its fur with ease, and you feel satisfied as the bunny closes its eyes.

The poster on the wall catches your attention once again, and you allow yourself a small smile as you take note of the date for the next show.  
  


* * *

  
It's more than you could have hoped to imagine.

Upon moving to this posh city, you did not have any intention to sneak out in the later hours of the night. Yet, when it comes to the extraordinary extravaganza of Nico Yazawa, you could not help but become curious – a curiosity that is, indeed, now satisfied.

You continue to sit in the back corner of the theatre even as the audience empties out into the streets of the industrious city, the small rabbit hidden beneath your cloak. Your eyes remain glued to the stage, a polished and refined pedestal of greatness, and you smile as you recall the night's events.

Truth be told, you have never been one to believe in magic. The few sideshows you manage to find on your family's travels tend to be mediocre at best or, frankly, a waste of money. Your father also loves to remind you that men these days are mere con men looking for a quick way to earn money through cheap tricks. But Nico is a woman and by no means a hoax.

When she performs, she becomes a force that no gaze can escape. What she lacks in vocals is made up for in body language, her fluid arm gestures and confident posture only aiding in her tricks and illusions. She conjures birds and rabbits from nothing, levitates objects with the flick of a wrist, and teleports between closed doors. There isn't any fault or mishap or caution in her movements, her work no less than powerful as though she truly possesses magic.

And perhaps, just this once, you may begin to believe she does.

You glance over at the exit, waiting for the doors to close from outside as you duck under your seat. It only takes a few minutes for you to be left alone, and only then do you remove the bunny trapped within the soft fabric of your coat. Its nose tickles your face as you plant a soft kiss on its head, and you stand back up just as the lights go out.

"Damn," you mumble, taking a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness. The ocean of seats seem like phantoms of the night, vague outlines of broad shapes forming their way into view as you navigate yourself through the expansive room. Despite the lack of company, you find yourself traversing as quietly as possible on your way toward the stage, as though the echoes of tonight's audience were to erupt from the shadows at the smallest sign of an intruder.

Your body flinches instinctively as you gently bump into the edge of the stage, and you run your hand along its edge until you find your way to the steps and up onto the stage. As you walk quietly across the polished wood, soft sounds whisper at your ear, seducing your curiosity as a faint light from backstage draws your attention. The silhouette of a door greets you as you turn a corner, the noise seeming to fade with every nearing step. You gulp down your doubts, doing your best to throw away the idea that danger could be behind this door. Curiosity is far too strong of an adversary to fight, but you believe fear can be conquered.

Magic is an invitation, not a trap.

You chant the words in your mind over and over again as you reach for the doorknob within the black abyss, only to be halted as light suddenly embraces you in all of its harshness. The smaller figure before you looks up at you curiously before offering a smile, her hair still in its signature high pigtail style. Blinking away the brightness of the room behind her, you can see that she is wearing a slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt, black slackers, and black suspenders that match her shoes. You blush as you see the tiniest hint of a nude bra, but you cast aside any thoughts in order to gentle hold the rabbit in front of her.

"I'm here to rightfully return your rabbit," you say, attempting an act of confidence as the bunny subtly shakes in your grasp. Nico's grin seems to widen a bit as she carefully takes the fluffy creature away from you, her hand gliding against yours for but a moment before the warmth of the animal escapes you completely.

She nods in what you can only assume to be gratitude before she gestures for you to come inside. Quick to follow, you take a moment to observe the small but cluttered abode as she safely puts away the rabbit. The room is entirely made out of concrete, with only a small rectangular window at the top of the back wall, and appears to have no other exit aside from the door. There is what looks to be a stiff cot pushed vertically against the far corner of the room, its sheets plain and browned by time against the iron framework. There is a crimson carpet on the floor, thick and matted in certain patches, rested upon by a mahogany desk centered perfectly in the middle of the room, with little space on every side. On the owner's end is a worn, upholstered chair that somehow even manages to best the thin, oaken chair on the other end of the desk. The other walls are littered in tattered posters, messy cabinets, armoires, small cages, luggage cases, and even a large object covered in a stained sheet against the wall opposite of the cot.

Nico sits on the upholstered chair, removing a quill from a nearby inkwell beside the candle on the desk. She looks at you again only to gesture toward the oaken seat parallel to her, and you immediately oblige in her commands. Your eyes watch as she scribbles something on a small piece of parchment, her small hands nimbly gliding across in one quick motion before she slides the sheet over to you. In surprisingly messy handwriting she asks, _Purpose?_

You blush, unsure of how to properly express your true intentions, but you attempt to explain, regardless, "I have been fascinated by what you've shown me in such little time."

Nico nods, her smile still wide. Silence follows, as is expected.

"And," you continue, "I was wondering if you needed a pianist at all."

She raises an eyebrow and tilts her head, clearly questioning your request.

"… I've always wanted to run away and play music," you say, "rather than learn the medicinal trade of my parents. They're quite strict; they don't even believe in magic. But, after seeing you in that alley… I couldn't help but become curious. Enchantment seems to have some sort of freedom, a freedom I've longed for."

A contemplative expression adorns Nico's face as she takes in your words, although there's something in the alignment of her mouth that suggests a hint of sadness. Perhaps she is not one to condone runaways, or even one to risk her safety for a stranger. She brings the quill back onto the paper after dipping it in the inkwell again, only to say, _Magic is not easy._

You shake your head, "I'm content with watching. I only need to play the piano."

She shakes her head, writing once more, _Music is magic._

You smile after reading that, your gaze lifting to meet hers only to find her hand outstretched in front of you. Without hesitance, you shake it with gratitude.

Her smile is infectious, and it's the first time in a long time that you feel that someone is happy to be around you, even for but a single moment.  
  


* * *

  
It goes without saying that a magician's assistant be sworn to secrecy in all matters of tricks and illusions.

However, as the first week goes by, you never seem to catch Nico in the midst of preparation or practice for any performance. You initially assumed that you would find her here or there rehearsing a trick, like she had done in the alleyway, but it's almost as though it had been a trick of fate that she had chosen to outwardly practice that one day. Perhaps she doesn't trust you enough just yet to perform in front of you alone.

There is a show for every night of the weekend, and yet she spends all of the week in her room or accompanying you as you practice at the piano provided by the theatre. It's a beautiful instrument, grand in nature and befitting your fantasies of a star musician. The first three shows you played went well, although you admit that you were definitely nervous. The audience has had an immensely positive response each time you've gone to show your skills. Your role is simply to introduce the show with an original melody and to also provide suspenseful chords at the right moments of Nico's act – which proves to be somewhat difficult, as she can be unpredictable due to lack of proper rehearsals. She somehow manages to come up with something new every time, always clad in top hat and suit, despite never seeming to work on her act. Maybe she spent years preparing an endless combination of things to do on stage.

With her lack of a voice and mysterious nature, you know that you will likely never know.

You spent your first few nights at a hotel with the little money you managed to scavenge from your savings before Nico brought in a bunk bed for the back room, and now you find yourself looking up at a gray ceiling every night from the stiffness of a hard mattress. You can't say you love it, as you are not used to these types of arrangements, but you can't help but feel a sense of excitement at the stark contrast of the life you led before this new direction. Pink and cerulean versus gray and tan, it almost seems like. The world has taken an almost dull, monochromatic tone, and Nico Yazawa The Magnificent seems to fill the world in magnificently vibrant color on weekends, and sometimes in small bursts of rainbow when it's just the two of you throughout the week – not that you're implying anything, of course. But it keeps you on your toes in a way that a mundane life of eloquence would never provide.

You sigh now as Nico blows out the candle of this cold and stuffy room, your body turning to face the wall. It's almost eerily quiet, but it can't be helped.

It doesn't take long for slumber to take over.  
  


* * *

  
You want to surprise her while she's out.

The back room has not once been cleaned since you asked to join Nico's shows, and even then you doubt that it was ever regularly tidied to begin with. And so, here you are, playing the part of what you consider to be a perfect assistant in cleaning up 'the office,' so to speak. Notes litter the floor, cabinets are disorganized, feces of the smaller pets are beginning to become pungent, and everything is simply covered in dust.

It's almost annoying, if you're being honest with yourself. But you're unsure if it's because of a wealthy background, so you often keep your mouth shut in an attempt at being considerate. But, as you drag a finger across the desk and find nothing short of a black hole on the tip of your finger, you know that this is incredibly ridiculous.

Although lacking the skills of a maid, you know that even the slightest touch of an amateur would do wonders to this pigsty. Cringing, you start with the animal cages. Despite their stinky cells, the animals themselves are surprisingly clean. You often wonder where these creatures may have come from – the rabbit, owl, toad, beetle, hedgehog, and so on – but you settle for bliss within your ignorance and are often content with petting the friendlier of the pets. Your favorite is Chi, the shy bunny that accompanied you on the biggest day of your life. You always deny it, but you sneak her an extra fruit here and there.

It doesn't take too long to pick up the mess on the floor and dust the various surfaces of the room, but you continue to sneeze. It's been two weeks, so you know you aren't allergic to the animals, but there is something that always tickles at your nostrils. You thought that dusting the room would help, but you can't think of what else it could be if not that.

As you scan the room once more, however, your gaze falls upon the mysterious object that you've yet to see let alone clean. On the wall opposite that of the cot is an object masked by a filthy sheet against the concrete that, upon closer inspection, reeks of age. It forces you to wrinkle your nose, and you cough for a moment before covering your mouth with your hand.

You use your free hand to remove the thick cloth, and what lies beneath it is not what you would have expected. Your eyes meet an impressively large and ornate oval mirror, its surface so clean that you could call it pristine. The golden craftsmanship of the piece is amazing, but you can't help but feel drawn to the almost crystalline-like appearance of the glass. You can't remember the last time you saw your reflection, but you definitely wouldn't say you've gone downhill in any way.

"I look pretty nice today," you mumble to yourself. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a quick flash of purple behind your reflection. You blink, unsure of yourself for a moment before the sheet suddenly finds itself back upon the mirror. Shocked, you jump back a step before realizing that Nico is the one who pulled it back over the object. You're about to apologize before you notice that, for the first time, Nico looks intimidating – in an angry way.

It's obvious that she wants to say something by the way her jaw and lips twitch, but she closes her eyes and breathes for a moment before making eye contact with you once more. She points to the mirror and shakes her head rapidly.

Based on her reaction to you seeing it in general, it doesn't take you more than a second to understand that she is saying to not remove the cloth ever again.

"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say, nervously holding your hands together in front of you.

Her glare lingers for only one other short moment before it softens and she nods her head.

Still, you aren't able to sleep that night.  
  


* * *

  
Oftentimes, you wish that communication were easier between the two of you. But you're quick to remember that Nico probably wants that more than anyone. You know you shouldn't be so selfish.

It's a hard desire to shake off when she sits beside you on the piano bench, smiling at you in a way that makes you feel as though someone believes in your potential, in your music. You love to stare out toward the empty rows of seats, taking in the tremendous acoustics of the theatre hall that you now call home, and it's nice to have someone that has faith in you. Nico tends to lean on your shoulder in moments like these, limiting your movement only subtly, and you can't resist the heat that rises to your cheeks every time.

It's been about a month since you began working with her, and two weeks since the incident with the mirror. Surprisingly, Nico has been a bit more touchy since then. Initially, you weren't sure how you felt about it; you often tried to awkwardly laugh your way out from the weight or pressure of her body. But, lately, you find yourself warming up to it in a way that spreads to every part of your body. You can't let her know that, though.

You wonder how she hasn't become bored of you yet. There's never anything new to the routine – not yours, at least. All she ever really does is listen and urge you to speak about yourself.

"There's not much to tell," you'll often say, but she constantly barrages you with unspoken curiosity. You're uncomfortable speaking of home, but she finds the life of the rich to be infinitely more interesting somehow, which strikes you as odd considering her magic prowess. Yet her eyes are hungry for details, despite ignoring the hunger in your own. She never speaks of herself.

Then again, how could she?

She rubs your arm in approval for the fifth time today, confirming once again that your piece is right for the next performance. You sigh at the touch, and you immediately meet her gaze.

"Have you ever cared about someone so much, despite having no real reason to?" you inquire, unsure why you feel the need to ask.

Her eyes widen suddenly, her hand leaving your arm almost instantly in what seems like an instinctive panic. The furrow in your brow seems to bring her back, however, and she looks away for a moment as though to contemplate the answer.

It's a simple yes or no question, isn't it? That's what you think, at least. Maybe you're just restless, aching to find out something – anything – intimate or personal regarding her life. It's not like she has to go into specifics, which would be difficult for her to do in general.

Nico's eyes return to meet your own, slightly more watery than you remember them being. She nods, and then points at you to reciprocate an answer.

You bite the inside of your cheek, "I wonder."  
  


* * *

  
After your next show, you are shocked to see her leave for her room so quickly, leaving you in charge of handling the audience members looking to speak with you or the magician herself.

However, you're more surprised when you walk into the back room afterward only to find her head slumped in her arms, her hand grasping an almost empty bottle of whiskey. It's an unexpected sight, and it saddens you to see her in what appears to be distress. You didn't even know that there was liquor around to be had in general.

After some deliberation, you gently remove the bottle from her grasp and blow out the candle on the desk before carefully lifting her up and tucking her into bed.

You are curious as to why your shirt feels damp where her face had been.  
  


* * *

  
It's moments like these that feel all too surreal, which is almost a hilarious thought considering the abundance of enchantments and tricks that surround you on a weekly basis.

You can feel the strands of wet hair against your cheeks, sweat glistening upon your skin as you smile at Nico from behind the piano. Her figure shines in the spotlight, her bow to the crowd only increasing the volume and intensity of applause. It's incredible how excited people can get when the performer's life is at risk.

Every show is different, but there's usually a strong difference between the start and end of the show, where things generally get more unbelievable. But today, between trapping herself in a suspended suitcase in a cage of water and reappearing dry as day in an armoire on the other end of the stage, even you temporarily lost confidence in her abilities. It was a horrifying and death-defying stunt.

But, as she turns her head over her shoulder to smile at you, your panic begins to settle down. Her grin is warm and inviting, yet somehow bouncing with an optimistic energy that reflects in the crowd. Her cheeks are rosy from what you assume to be the excitement, her posture strong and elegant despite her short stature, and she looks as though the world exists to rest in the palm of her hand.

And she's breathtaking, you realize. You have been wondering for some time now if what you have been feeling recently is a result of sincere longing or if witnessing magic has enraptured you from the beginning to the point where your emotions are untrustworthy.

Nico removes her top hat, twirling it in her hand before pointing the top in your direction. It's your cue to stand and bow, but this time around she walks over to you and grabs your hand so that you two can bow together. She exchanges a smile with you before you both face the crowd, and you indulge yourself in squeezing her hand.

Maybe these feelings are equally sincere and magical.

She squeezes your hand just as tightly, and you can't help but feel enchanted, yourself.  
  


* * *

  
You blush as you hand her a bouquet of roses, "It's for a job well done tonight."

Nico raises an eyebrow with a smirk, clearly seeing through your fa _çade_ as she carefully accepts the flowers. It's been three months, and you wouldn't be surprised if she were to notice the recent and obvious pining.

You aren't quite sure of when the exact moment was, but you find that her presence is getting cuter and sweeter every day. It's ridiculously unbearable and absolutely unrealistic. No one merely becomes attractive in the course of a single day. Although, looking back on the initial encounter, you can admit that she was sort of cute from the start.

"It's just flowers, don't look into it," you mumble, a weak attempt at putting a safeguard up for rejection. She winks at you before turning to go place it in a vase.

You exhale a shaky breath, relaxing the tension in your shoulders before allowing yourself a sheepish smile.  
  


* * *

  
There are stares shared in subtle moments, both outside and during the shows, and they're the most intimate and overwhelmingly intense exchanges that you can ever imagine having.

You think about those ruby orbs often, sometimes reveling in it silently in the night while you wish for more to lock than just gazes.  
  


* * *

  
It's another night of disappearance and whiskey after a show, and it's becoming increasingly more upsetting, especially when a performance goes well or when the onstage chemistry is practically on fire.

You sigh, blowing out the candle until only a faint shimmer of moonlight shines through the tiny window. Nico's body isn't too difficult to carry, but you feel her wiggling around in your hold.

"You've had too much to drink," you say, lowering her down onto her mattress. She stops you, however, and quickly flips the position so that you find yourself with your back on the bed. Blushing, you stare up at her within the darkness, "What are you doing?"

It's obvious in her inability to keep from wobbling that she is still reeling in the effects of her liquor, but she seems conscious enough to know exactly where to pinch at your chest. Your breath hitches and you push her hand away gently. She seems confused by this, her eyebrow raising.

"You're not yourself… I don't want to take advantage," you say, fully aware that were it not for the dark that your face would be red with fire.

Nico seems to contemplate for a moment before shaking her head. She taps her chest and then taps yours in the same spot.

"Do you… have an interest in me?" you ask.

She nods, a smile stretching itself across her face despite its sloppy corners. Her hand reaches for your chest once again in a more gentle motion, the heel of her palm slowly kneading at your breast as though asking for consent to go further.

You nod and, although you never lock lips, you soon learn that the mouth has much more to offer than the ability to speak.  
  


* * *

  
She disappears and locks herself in her room much more frequently now.

It hurts you.

Perhaps it had been your fault for accepting the advances under the allure of alcohol, but it's become difficult for Nico to even look at you now.

"Was I inadequate?" you whisper to yourself, trying not to become emotional at the prospect. It isn't as though there had been much for you to do in the moment; there's only so many things you can do when there's someone between your thighs who won't even let you kiss them.

And that was another thing. Truth be told, you would have simply liked a kiss; perhaps even a few. You're a young woman, after all, and there are certain steps you need to take before reaching such a level of physical intimacy. Although, you admit that you enjoyed it enough for the echoes of your moans to become ingrained in your mind. You're embarrassed.

Distressed, you silently turn the doorknob of the backroom and peek in. You are ready to enter when you see Nico standing in front of the mirror, tears running down her face as she gently touches its glass surface. You stop in your tracks, watching from the crack of the door as she continues to simply stare into it, her cries silenced by circumstance.

You swear you see a flash of purple at the corner of the reflection, but by the time you finish blinking it is already gone.  
  


* * *

  
She continues to give you the cold shoulder, only looking at you during performances for the sake of the show. The audience doesn't notice a thing, seemingly convinced by the forced chemistry in the spotlight.

Every time you smile behind the piano, you realize that this act is just that – an act.  
  


* * *

  
It isn't until Nico has to leave to meet with the owner of the theatre before the show that you begin to physically act on your curiosity. Seeing her standing in front of the mirror became routine, and she stands in front of it on a daily basis now. It's aggravating that a mirror is getting more attention than her own assistant, even though you hate the thought of being jealous of an object.

Your hands pull away at the sheet, revealing the ornate mirror. You are met with your reflection, a redheaded young woman clad in a sparkling black gown who looks a little too thin for your personal liking. You didn't realize that you haven't been eating right.

There's nothing outwardly abnormal with the mirror, but you glare holes into every inch of its surface in an attempt to find something to blame for all of this inner turmoil. You know that Nico is a confident magician, but you doubt that she's conceited enough to stare and cry at herself in the mirror every day. That is, unless she is more self-loathing than she lets on.

You remember the many nights of whiskey.

Frowning, you ignore another flash of purple in your peripheral as you rest the sheet in its rightful spot. It isn't fair at all, but perhaps this is a private issue. You can always just confront her directly about ignoring you since that heated night rather than peeking on her when she's vulnerable and snooping around her stuff.

You go to grab some pet snacks from the desk when you notice a slip of paper clamped awkwardly from the top drawer. Hoping that the parchment isn't too important, you open the drawer in order to gently lay the entire paper inside but you stop when you see Nico's handwriting.

_I can't go through with this, Nozomi._

"What?" you mutter to yourself, wondering who Nozomi is as you shut the drawer. There hasn't been anyone around in all the time you've been here.

Nothing makes sense nor satisfies your troubled mind.  
  


* * *

  
You decide to confront her the next time you catch her alone in her room so soon after a show – which just so happens to be now.

The audience doesn't take too long to file out before the lights go out, and you promptly make your way to the back room. You don't hesitate to open the door and let yourself in, unwavered by the way she jumps in place and frantically pulls the sheet down on the mirror.

"Why have you been acting differently ever since that night?" you ask, firm in your tone. You understand that she can't verbally respond, but you're too riled up from hours of self-motivating to back down and be considerate.

Nico frowns, her eyes already watery from before, and she shakes her head multiple times.

"Are you saying that this is normal for you?" you question, becoming more irritated as she struggles to give you a definite yes or no, "Do you hate me?"

She shakes her head immediately, waving her arms and hands back and forth.

"Do you like me?"

A nod.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

She shakes her head.

You groan, confused and helplessly annoyed by the inability of proper communication, "Who is Nozomi?"

Her expression changes to that of grim panic and disbelief. Her mouth is gaping open as she stares at you, her body still in its movement as she seems frozen in place. If she ever had been able to speak, this would undoubtedly be her moment of speechlessness.

"Is she a lover?" you ask, your tone softer than before. You're hesitant to find out the truth. But when Nico's gaze falls to the ground, you already know the answer. Tears quickly begin to fall from your eyes, your body shaking from your sobs as you squat down to the ground. Nico follows suit, lowering herself to wrap her arms around you.

"I love you," you manage to choke out, lifting your head up so that you can connect your lips with hers. Your hands find the sides of her neck, your thumbs caressing at her jaw as you pull her in for a deep kiss. You savor the way that her lips taste like euphoria, but the flavor lasts no more for a second before Nico tears herself away.

"Maki, what have you done?!"

Your eyes shoot open, watching speechlessly as Nico yells your name repeatedly and shakes your shoulders. Tears start to fall out of her eyes this time, her voice – unfamiliar and strange – scratching up as though her throat were raw. You open your mouth to ask what is going on, but you find yourself unable to create sound. Panic begins to creep through your bones, causing you to shake again as you grasp at Nico's arms.

"I… I love you, too, Maki," Nico says, suddenly, through the tears running down her cheeks. The room begins to shake, the flame of the candle going out as the small window bursts open and brings forth a violent gust of wind, knocking cages on their sides and objects to the floor. The animals cry out, fearful of the chaos around them. You feel helpless, staring into Nico's eyes with a desperation for her to fix this. Her lips tremble as she speaks, "I can't fix this."

You flinch as the sheet on the mirror flies into the air, an intense white light filling the void of the glass and illuminating the room in bright light.

"There's not much time," Nico says, her tone frantic, "so I'm going to tell you what's happening, okay?" she asks, gently caressing the sides of your face tenderly.

You nod, blinking frequently in an attempt to bring sharpen the blurred image of Nico before you.

"I was once a singer, an entertainer," she begins, "but I had the honor of meeting a traveling witch in town. She was elegant and, when I found her at the end of a quiet street, I was enchanted by her abilities. She didn't need a stage to levitate objects, to conjure things out of thin air, to manipulate perception. However, she couldn't speak."

Your eyes widen, listening intently as a whirlwind emerges from the mirror and begins to engulf the contents of the room.

"I wasn't doing so well with auditions at the time, so I asked her if I could be her assistant. We did a lot of two-person tricks back then, many of which I never could understand no matter how hard I tried to figure them out. And I eventually fell in love with her," Nico says, the volume of her voice increasing as the chaos in the room intensifies.

You can feel her body being pulled away very slowly, and you hold on as tightly as possible.

"She never intended to feel the same way for me, but in the end she found room in her pained heart for me, too," she explains, her voice shaking more, "but only after she kissed me did I realize something was wrong. She was secretive, much more than I am. I never took notice of the mirror in her caravan until it was too late, when she kissed me and was suddenly ripped away from me. Only as she was being pulled apart from this world did she explain anything to me, share anything with m-me…. like I'm d-doing now."

Your grasp tightens, your body slowly moving along with hers.

"She kissed me, knowing that it would reunite her with her first love, the sorceress before her. It's a cycle, an unstoppable affliction that even its gift of magic cannot redeem. Magic comes at a price, Maki… and the payment is a curse; the curse of unrequited love. The moment that a cursed one kisses the one that they love, they are torn away from them and are… forced to watch their love fall for someone else…"

None of it makes any sense. When does it begin and when does it end?

Nico's body becomes harder to hold onto as the void of the mirror sucks her in, its pull stronger and stronger with every second, "M-Maki!"

Your mind screams her name to no verbal avail, the thought of her disappearing only another horror in this saga of madness. There is no way that any of this makes sense – that this could even be happening so suddenly.

And it's all your fault.

Silhouettes of flying objects scatter across the walls, the bright white of the maelstrom erratically strobing the small room. You mouth words of apology over and over again, only upsetting you further when Nico somehow manages a small smile between her streams of tears.

"Even now, you're the only truly magical thing in this room. Don't be sorry for showing me that," Nico says softly but loud enough that you are able to hear, kissing you once more – hard and determined – before her legs are dragged out from beneath her and yanked toward the portal. You lunge forward and grab her hands, your body being pulled to the mirror along with her as the lower half of her body fades into the glass.

She squeezes your hands, "You can't come with me, Maki!"

You shake your head over and over again, forcing yourself to stand up against the current of the wind in order to pull back with all your strength.

A new voice fills the room, its eerily warm sound sending a chill down your spine, "Join us, Nicocchi."

"Maki, always know that I do love you, no matter what you may come to believe!" Nico cries out one last time, her words fading out into an indistinguishable scream as she lets go of your hands and is sucked into the void.

Objects crash to the floor as an immediate and silent calm falls upon the room, leaving you in the aftermath of darkness when the bright light of the mirror flashes back to normalcy.

You can feel yourself screaming.

But, as you slowly claw at your arms and hug yourself into a ball upon the floor, you know that no one will ever hear you.

You welcome the darkness.  
  


* * *

  
It is a long time before you are able to get yourself back on your feet. Many people were suspicious of the sudden disappearance of their favorite magician, and so you took it upon yourself to purchase a wagon and travel elsewhere.

A new city welcomed you, marveling at your talent and powers, and offered you a small theatre of your own. It felt familiar, so you were grateful and took it.

It's been a year, but you're finally ready for your first show at the end of the upcoming weekend. The posters have been made, the set has been arranged, and even you admit you're a little excited.

Smiling, you walk up to a blanketed object in your office with a piece of paper in hand. Removing the cover, you find yourself in front of the familiar and impenetrable – as you learned over time – mirror. A pigtailed girl looks at you expectantly, offering a small smile in response to your own.

You hold the paper up to the mirror, _Don't worry, Nico. I'll join you soon._

The expression on the girl's face changes to a frown, her fist soundlessly knocking at the glass between you two. She looks frustrated, but you know she has to deal with it. It's not her decision to make.

You must compensate for your mistakes. You deserve to be punished.

You lean down and kiss the mirror, ignoring the disappointed eyes of your long lost love before putting the cover back on the mirror. You make sure to put on your white gloves and black jacket before picking the top hat up from the desk. It sickens you a bit, but this is all you have left of her.

Walking out of the building and into the alley on the side, you crack your knuckles in preparation. Removing the hat from your head, you hold it in one hand at the ready as you face the street entrance of the alleyway on the opposite end. And you wait.

And you wait.

And you wait until you hear an audible step at the other end to bring your gloved hand into the hat. The silhouette of the figure ahead stops in their tracks, your peripheral taking note of their body's positioning toward you. You pull your hand out, the white rabbit Chi appearing in your grasp just as you decide to look up at the figure outside the alley. They're smiling, a bright and cheery grin that shines from afar, and you return the expression with one of your own toothy beam.

The figure, a girl upon closer inspection, takes a moment before making the decision to walk closer to you.

"Hello!" she says, her tone as lively as her smile, "Are you a magician, by chance?"

You nod, placing the top hat back upon your head and using the free hand to imitate a zipping gesture across your mouth. You cradle Chi in your arms as the girl slowly begins to realize the implication.

"You can't speak?" she asks, her smile turning into a pout. Something about her reminds you of a cat, perhaps an orange tabby if any indicator from her short hair. You quickly hold Chi out, placing the rabbit in the girl's arms before she can react.

You nod, your polite smile plastered onto your face.

"Well, I'm Rin Hoshizora!" the girl exclaims, happily nuzzling her face in Chi's fur.

You clap your hands together before pointing at a poster against the wall of your building. She looks up at it, examining the image of your silhouette between two lines of words.

"The Marvelous Maki Nishikino Spectacular? Your name is Maki? Is this your show?" she asks, her energy present even in her inability to ask one question at a time. You try not to twitch.

You nod three times, answering every question as they're asked. Without giving any more room for more conversation, you quickly take a hand of hers and shake it before running off and out of sight before she can attempt to give the enchanted rabbit back.

She'll need an excuse to see the show.

After all, magic is an invitation.

But it's also a trap.


End file.
